For You to Find Out
by Sophie McCrory
Summary: He told her it was for him to know, and her to find out. She does, several years later. Short drabble, B&B.


**Title:** For You to Find Out

**Spoilers:** Season 4: The Perfect Pieces in the Purple Pond

**Rating:** T, just to be safe.

**Disclaimer:** Do not own.

**Summary:** He told her it was for him to know, and her to find out. She does, several years later. Short drabble, B&B.

**Notes:** I was Christmas shopping recently when I just casually walked through the TV on DVD section at Target, to find that—miracle of miracles!—Bones Season 4 was on sale. So I bought it. And now, when I should be studying for a Constitutional Law class that I have a final in on Monday, I am watching the entire set. The scene that is mentioned in this piece just got the ball rolling. Any errors are mine, as I took twenty minutes to write it before posting.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sometimes, when he can convince her, they sleep in on Sundays. There is usually an argument that starts with her needing to work. He counters that he, too, would be sacrificing. She questions how. He points out that Sunday is the Lord's day, and that if he elects to stay in bed with her instead of going to mass to atone for all the sins they committed the night before, he has to carry that weight all week. She tells him that that mindset is insane. He informs her that going to work on a day some counties within their beloved country make illegal for businesses to be open is equally insane. They stay in bed.

"Would you like me to make breakfast?" he asks, as they lay, cuddled together in his bed.

"That would be nice," she responds.

He eyes her curiously, as this too usually leads to an argument. There is a moment where he seems to question why, but ultimately decides not to argue with this accident of the cosmos. He gets up, pulls his boxers back on, and leaves.

What he doesn't know, is that something has been weighing on her mind. Nothing heavy, or devious, just a spark of curiosity born of a conversation she is sure he does not remember them having. A question she once asked him that he effectively dodged, but she only let it go into hibernation. She wants to know.

Carefully, she gets up, pulling the sheet around her body. She creeps on her toes to his closet, careful to not make a sound that would rouse his interest. She has a sneaky grin on her face, as she quietly pushes the door open, and crouches down by his shoes. She loses herself in searching them, one by one. When she finds what she is looking for, she holds it up victoriously, "Aha!"

At the same time, Booth returns to the bedroom, box of pancake mix in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. "Hey, do you want them plain or with—" when he sees her, crouched down, wrapped in a sheet, holding up some very familiar photos and magazine clippings in her hand, the color drains from his face. "Bones, what are you holding?"

She stands, mischievous grin coloring her face, "You know exactly what I'm holding," if it is possible, her grin grows wider, "masturbatory aids!" The giggle that erupts from her kind of makes him want to sink into the floor and die.

"Bones!" he scolds, whining like Parker does when he is informed it's time to go to bed, "that's personal! I didn't say you could go digging around in my closet!"

"Yes, you did," she counters, "we were on a case two years ago… we were with Sweets in a victim's bedroom, and you told him to look in the shoes for masturbatory aids. I asked you if you do that, and you said, 'That is for me to know, and you to find out.' That sounds like permission to me." She giggles again, "And now I know. You DO keep them in your shoes!"

Booth shifts the wooden spoon to his other hand so he could run his hand down his face, "That was an expression, Bones." He frowns, turning around and storming out of the room, "Jesus Christ, don't you forget anything?!"

She scampers after him, still giggling a little as she goes, "It's perfectly natural, Booth. You don't need to be embarrassed! I do it all the time. Is this a picture of me, by the way? How long have you had it?"

FIN.


End file.
